Den of Smugglers
Log Title: Den of Smugglers Characters: Cryotek, Flanker, Raker, Ratbat, Scourge, Sweeps Location: Crystal City Spaceport Date: October 16, 2016 TP: End of Days TP Summary: A group of neutrals tries to escape the doomed planet Cybertron. Category:2016 Category:End of Days TP Category:Logs As logged by Cryotek - Sunday, October 16, 2016, 8:50 PM Ruins of Crystal City Spaceport Up close, the spaceport has an eerie feel to it. Perhaps it's the skeletonized remains of once-mighty starships and other ground equipment left to rust, perhaps its the sound of turborats and other beasts skittering through the rubble on their way to eat or be eaten...or maybe it's because you're standing on what is still more or less a wide open flat space in a city full of people who know exactly how much your components are worth on the black market. With Cybertron seeming to break apart beneath them, neutral citizens are desperate to get off the planet. However, with the Decepticons shooting down all the legitimate transports, some have turned to more dangerous options -- smugglers from Crystal City. Many of these smugglers have gotten civilians just outside of Cybertron's gravity well and then simply dumped them into space. Still, others keep coming, willing to risk the vastness of space (and the hope of rescue there) rather than be burnt and crushed as Cybertron slowly implodes. Out of the shadows pops a snout. Followed by blood-red optics. Then the rest of Ratbat. In this form he's certainly a formidable scout and spy, stealthy and able to sniff out and distinguish all sorts of fuel sources... but... well. His more animalistic tendancies tend to take hold, oversimplifying his thinking. So when he hangs upside down on a rusting ship carcass... it's understandable. When he starts hopping down into the shadows and rturning with turbo rat carcasses in his mouth, swallowing and chewing them down with determined effort it becomes clearer that he may be bored and waiting for something more exciting to happen. As it usually does. Ratbat knows this. Scourge and the Sweeps gather to prevent this lawless evacuation, as Megatron has commanded. It is not his concern whether the Neutrals perish with Cybertron, but only that Megatron's will be obeyed. A group of six neutrals head into the spaceport, looking around and up and to the side at the seedy times gathered in the area. One of them prissily avoids touching anything, as if afraid of catching something. "I'm not sure why we're even here," he complains. "Raker turns into a shuttle!" Another neutral frowns. "Yes, but unless you want to see him shot out of the sky, we need some sort of protection!" There's a squeak from the darkness as a rat gets away. Hopping out and looking around, radar dishes a-twiddle, Ratabt seeks out who's in league with the rats and is tipping them off. Ah-ha! On leather wings he glides silently to a nearby perch and decides, initially, to stare at those responsible. A fierce stare to make his displeasure known. The Sweeps' sensitive sensors lead them in the direction of the neutrals, because nobody escapes the Sweeps. Scourge confronts them. "You're not going anywhere!" he snarls, brandishing his talons. The neutrals freeze, glancing around as the Sweeps surround them and Scourge makes his presence known. The denizens of the spaceport fade back away from the confrontation, moving into the shadows and watching carefully to see what transpires. Behind a dirty curtain, figures closely monitor what's happening in the center of the damaged terminal. The last neutral that spoke steps forward, looking up at Scourge. "You have no right to keep us here! We aren't your citizens, Decepticon!" His mates step forward to back him up, although everyone else on the covered tarmac suddenly looks busy and unwilling to help. This is not acceptable. Scourge and the Sweeps rightly came over to deal with the rat savers and now they're getting abuse from thes rodent-lovers?! Steps must be taken. Fluttering over, without disturbing the air, Ratbat lands on the shouty one's head and looks at him upside down. He then says, "EEEEEEK! SQU! EAK! SQU-EE-EE-EEE! EAK! QUE! AK!" Yeah! How'd you like it somone shouting in your face you wet piece of flax! The rats are mine! I should drain you even though you'll taste even worse than you smell!! You unrefined orepile. So there. Scourge growls savagely. "That is not my concern. My only priority is following the commands as laid out by Lord Megatron. It is your choice, do as he commands, or die." The Sweeps start to encircle the troublemakers, keen for battle. Behind the curtain, a large blue figure stirs, moving through the shadows. Out on the covered tarmac, the neutral leader starts to freak out about the bat on his head, and his nearest friend takes a step back and tries to fire at Ratbat with his arm-lasers, missing the con cassette and nearly hitting Sunder. As the Sweeps move in, the curtain behind them moves aside, and the massive blue figure emerges. "Decepticons!" he calls out. "A word, please, before you harm my potential customers." Finishing his remprimand Ratbat's satisfied it's having the desired effect. The supportrter of sewer dwellers has started flailing like... Hey! Ratbat more senses than sees the shot sail past him. There's some other person who's impediment to Ratbat's feeding habits has yet to be determined. Therefore unimportant at this point. Hopping off his humanoid perch he springs on stubby paws over to the one who took a shot at him. Quietly Ratbat looks up at him with an offended stare and says, quietly, "Eek." Watch it boyo. After this grumbler finishes a droning... you're next for a talking to. Like small creatures Ratbat discards the differeneces that other people would use to define intimidation. He's staring fiercely. Therefore he might as well be twice the size of Megatron and four times as angry. Scourge growls. "Make it quick," he says, "Though you are unlikely to change our minds. Or Lord Megatron's for that matter. If you wish to question Lord Megatron's dictates in person, it's your funeral." The neutral shooter rears back and frowns as Ratbat springs over to him. "Shoo!" he says, aiming his wrist lasers at the Decepticon but not firing again. "Why don't you flap off?" another, mouthy neutral says, taking a step forward towards the large bat. "You might not want to start something, Flanker," warns another neutral, keeping his optics up on the gathered Sweeps, even as their leader turns to address the large blue mech. The mech himself smiles, his amber optics fixing upon Scourge. "No one here wishes to anger 'Lord' Megatron, of course," he says, stepping further from the shadows. The dim lights of the terminal reflect off his crystalline wings, and the teeth of the dragon that makes up the figure's left hand. "Certainly we can come to some sort of arrangement. Have these citizens committed some sort of crime? They've just arrived! This isn't really your jurisdiction, Commander Scourge, but I'm always happy to work with representatives of the Decepticon Empire," he purrs soothingly. The uncooth behavior! It's enough to... yup. Ratbat lifts a stubby paw, rapidly scratches his snout and sneezes. Oh! Now another one! As much cheekplate too?! Ganging up on a wee thing?! You asked for it kids. As the transformational circuitry shows off exactly how much mass can be stored in subspace the 30' wingspanned bat glowers... and growls. All of a sudden his soon to be victims should be able to speak bat very clearly. The growl says, "The temporary reprieve that is your existance only occurs until I choose who dies first." "Their crime was attempting to leave when Lord Megatron has forbidden it," Scourge says stiffly, "And you are aiding and abetting that crime." The neutrals all take a step back as Ratbat grows until he's bigger than them -- admittedly, they're not very big neutrals. The leader holds up his hand, trying to calm both Ratbat and his friends. "Now, hold on! We're not here to fight! We just want to get off this planet before it combusts. Why won't you Decepticons let us leave?" The aggressive neutral, Flanker, scowls, crossing his arms across his black and silver chest. The others shift their attention between Ratbat and the Sweeps, the prissy neutral looking disgusted at the entire situation, having obviously decided this entire idea was a bad one. The big blue bot that is definitely not the Tick spreads his hands, both regular and dragon. "Where is your proof that I've done any such thing? If they'd have asked me to assist them leaving the planet, of course I'd have turned them over to you immediately. Is that what you wish?" he calls out the neutrals. "To leave our poor planet in its time of need?" He looks aghast that anyone would even consider it. "It is not for you to question Lord Megatron's decree, nor is it for me to do so either," Scourge retorts, "His will is but to be obeyed." Being bigger means a bigger thirst. And Ratbat's always thirsty. Lumbering about he first waddles over to one ofthe neutrals with interest. giving him an experimental sniff. Silver. Rocket fuel. Yum. Not enough. Half growling-half snotring he dismisses the neut as... oh boy! The gassy one was in the way. Frosty gaseous fuel always gives him indigestion. With a flap hoisting him into the air and a second crashing him downwards, Ratbat unceremoniously crashes behind the blue one talking and proceeds to start biting through to where the yummy is. If he hits any it's a case of gotta drink 'em all! The neutrals shy nervously away as Ratbat sniffs them. They each take a step back, seeming more freaked out by the giant bat than the even bigger and usually more intimidating Sweeps. Big Blue, however, simply smiles ingratiatingly. "Of course! Lord Megatron's will is always to be obeyed. You can tak--" However, as Ratbat swoops past him and attaches himself to something behind Blue's curtain, Blue's countenance suddenly darkens. "Get away from there!" he orders. "Don't make me hurt you!" Blue turns his back on the Sweeps and strides into his little cordoned-off area of the damaged terminal, making a beeline for the bat. The antics of the bat amuse the Sweep Leader, and a smirk creeps on his bearded visage as he watches the blue neutral get distracted. There is an almighty slurping sound as Big-bat has latched on to a something. Two, in fact. A barrel on each fang. When gassy approaches the bat unceremoniously belches at him, dislodging the fuel barrels, and he promptly starts on more. It doesn't how fast or powerful gassy is... Ratbat can drink more and faster. Blue turns and scowls at Scourge. "Enough!" he says. "Call off your flying rodent, and I'll make sure no one else leaves this planet without Megatron's permission. You have my word on it." He steps towards Ratbat and opens the jaws of his dragon-hand... but holds his attack, giving Scourge a chance to intervene first. On the tarmac, the neutrals look each other, quickly realizing they may be getting sold down the river. "If that's so, then Ratbat, come," Scourge says, "We'll give this one a chance to keep his word. If he is deceiving us, you may return to your feeding." Big Blue glowers. If there's one thing that's important to him, it's his energon, and Ratbat has quickly found and exploited his only real weakness. The neutrals, realizing quickly they'll find no protection here, transform into six different flight modes and retreat, hauling aft out of there. Blue allows the Cons to leave, along with whatever energon Ratbat has stolen already, which, knowing Batmech, is a lot. So be it. The cost of doing business with a Decepticon. Blissfully unaware of events The supersized thirsty-bat happens to finish the round he's on anyway. Looking too closely at how much is left, if anything, is something in the big category of irrelevant. Sourge is saying something. Is there a turborat stuck in the well? Poor undrunk yummy trapped down the old mineshaft? Either way it seems important. Ratbat remembers Scourge is high up the pecking order so, if he's feeding Ratbat, Ratbat must've done something right. That shows those rat botheres who's boss! Look! They're running. Transforming into his smaller bat form Ratbat sits on Scourges shoulder, waiting to be fed. As Ratbat's thirsty. Then again Ratbat's always thirsty...